


life is beautiful (let's get ready for it)

by terrierlee



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 fic except kinda not???, Ace Victor, Gen, M/M, asexual Victor, depressed victor, guys i'm so sorry, sadfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 03:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrierlee/pseuds/terrierlee
Summary: The picture featured most of the cast, laughter evident on their faces. Christophe had his arm around an Asian man, probably Japanese, who had the rosiest cheeks Victor had ever seen.His thumb hovered over the like button. He knew, logically, there was no shame in him liking the photo. The selfie well done, seeing as how everyone managed to cram themselves into the frame.Still something clawed at his insides. Seeing others happy, at them enjoying their time together, set something off inside.





	life is beautiful (let's get ready for it)

**Author's Note:**

> Written entirely on my phone because I came up with this idea while in bed a few weeks ago. Most of this fic is taken from my own experiences and a big chunk of this was written while I was in a depressed state. Enjoy.

It was a normal day. Wake up, walk Makkachin, make breakfast, feed Makkachin and then head to the rink.

So Victor woke up, swinging his legs out of his bed and padding across the floor to retrieve a shirt, coat, and shoes. Makkachin had already hopped off the bed, ready to relieve herself outside. She waited patiently by the front door as Victor slipped on his shoes.

Not even five minutes later found Victor outside his apartment building, bundled up in his coat as Makkachin crouched near some bushes. She emerged from the foliage, scrapping at the snow, unearthing grass and dirt. Victor’s eyes traveled to the wall of the building, his mind fogging over as he felt his eyes lose their focus.

Makkachin gave a low bark, signaling she had completed using the bathroom In the bushes. Victor jolted from his daze, peering down at his poodle before giving her head a small pat, “Right, let’s go in.”

They traveled back towards the elevator, walking past the other tenants. Victor gave a tight smile to those he passed, the smile finally dropping once they entered the elevator and the doors shut. Makkachin stood by his side as Victor’s eyes once again glazed over, only breaking the daze once he reached his floor.

As soon as the door to his apartment shut behind him, Victor discarded his coat, popping off his shoes. Makkachin continued forward, hopping onto the couch and making herself comfortable. She gave a small boof towards the door, where Victor remained standing.

Distantly, he was aware that he was needed to be at the rink soon. He wasn’t one to be late, normally he would arrive early and stay extra late, even to the point where Yakov would demand he go home.

But there were some days, not all the time but definitely here and there, the urge to remain in bed would grow. Those days he would surf the internet, wasting precious moments when he could be at the rink before the rest of his rinkmates.

Victor rubbed a hand across his face, taking a peek at the time. If he had a piece of fruit, maybe something light to take with him, he should be able to make it to the rink on time.

Instead, he returned to his room, making sure his sports bag was filled with the necessities before bidding Makkachin goodbye. 

* * *

Numbness. It filled his entire being, from the soles of his feet to the roots of his hair.

Victor was going through the motions, Yakov insisting he work on his short program once again. Instead of talking back, he only took to the ice, maneuvering around his fellow rinkmates.

A sudden wave of clapping jolted him, not realizing that he had finished his program without any recollection of doing so. From the other side of the rink, Yakov was nodding in approval.

“Good, Vitya. Now again.”

They repeated this before switching over to his free skate, all the while the numbness persisted.

Yakov waved a hand, signaling for Victor. He complied, coming to a stop and taking a gulp from his water bottle.

“Make sure you work on your spins in the second half, they were getting sloppy.”

“Of course, Yakov.”

He took another drink, only stopping once the silence stretched on and he felt a piercing gaze.

“Vitya, are you well?”

Victor lowered his water bottle, a smile already spread across his lips, “I’m fine, Yakov!” He leaned forward, scrapping the excess ice from his blades, “Never felt better!”

As he pushed away from the barrier, the smile slid from his face. 

* * *

With each gold medal added to his collection, the more closed off Victor began to feel. Even though Georgi was closer in age to him, it was never as if they hung out at friends.

Some days, it felt like his only friend was Makkachin.

As the years went by, Yakov took on more students, which included the bright Mila and feisty Yuri Plisetsky.

They integrated well with Georgi, Mila being sympathetic to his romantic plights while Yuri scoffed and pretended not to listen.

It was another afternoon, practice had ended for the day but Victor still intended to stay a few hours after to refine his free skate. His fellow rinkmates had congregated to the other side of the rink, their voices loud over the quiet.

Victor slowed down, starting to do compulsory figures while trying not to pretend he wasn’t interesting in their conversation. Or why they hadn’t invited him over.

It wasn’t his business, having ignored life and love for almost twenty years, it wasn’t like Victor could give proper dating advice. Skating on the other hand, that he could do. No matter what the tabloids said, Victor had barely gotten to first base on either of the two dates he’d been on, so many years ago.

He shrugged, one shoulder drooping as he switched to the other leg. He was fine. He didn’t need to socialize. He had to win more gold medals. 

* * *

It was an unscheduled rest day. Yakov’s orders.

“No rink for you, Vitya! I don’t want to see you for a full 24 hours! Get some rest before coming back here!”

And so, as per Yakov’s orders, Victor was in bed. On his phone. Christophe had just posted a picture from the most recent ice show he took part in.

The picture featured most of the cast, laughter evident on their faces. Christophe had his arm around an Asian man, probably Japanese, who had the rosiest cheeks Victor had ever seen.

His thumb hovered over the like button. He knew, logically, there was no shame in him liking the photo. The selfie well done, seeing as how everyone managed to cram themselves into the frame.

Still something clawed at his insides. Seeing others happy, at them enjoying their time together, set something off inside.

He hesitated for only a second longer before taking the plunge and liking the photo. He quickly pressed the comment button, not thinking about it as he typed.

“Congrats on the successful show!!! Wish I could have been there!!!”

Letting his phone fall from his grasp and onto his bed, Victor turned to his side, staring blankly at the wall. 

* * *

Everything was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

After Sochi and the subsequent three months following, Victor had waited and waited and finally, finally, Yuuri called out to him. He watched the Stammi Vicino video a total of five times before booking a flight to Japan.

Except now it looked like Yuuri wanted nothing to do with him.

It hurt.

Victor lay on the spare futon, Makkachin in his arms as the tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

The pain was almost unbearable.

Victor was all alone, save for Makkachin, in a different country where he couldn’t speak the language, he abandoned his coach, left skating, and his life and love shied away from his every touch.

Everything seemed so helpless. How was everything going to work out?

* * *

It was a month after Yuuri officially moved to St. Petersburg.

They had found their niche, Yuuri transitioning well with his new Russian rinkmates.

Victor had retired to the locker room first, identifying the telltale signs that Yuuri wanted a little bit longer on the ice. That was fine, Victor had complete faith in his fiancé and knew that he would leave the ice once he was ready.

He exited the locker room, sports bag slung over his shoulder when he heard the distinct sound of Yuuri laughing. Entering the rink, Victor paused, hand raised in mid-wave.

Yuuri was still on the ice, but leaning against the barrier, surrounded by Yuri and the rest of the Russian skaters.

Something squirmed in his stomach, clawing its way up to his chest. The edges of his sight began to darken, as if suddenly Victor had only tunnel vision.

It was hard to breathe.

Yuuri nodded to something someone was saying before looking in his direction, a smile open on his face. He turned back to the other skaters, murmuring something to them and then making his way off the ice. He stopped only to put his skate guards on, moving closer once he finished. “Victor! Let me get changed and then—” Yuuri stopped, his smile slipping iff his face as he laid a hand on Victor’s shoulder, “Hey, are you okay?”

“I…” The pressure on his shoulder only tightened, Yuuri’s fingers grounding him so he reached up to entwine their fingers together, “No,” he looked down, aware the others were watching them, “let’s go home?”

The ride home was quiet, Victor made no move to talk and Yuuri didn’t pressure him. Makkachin greeted them once they entered the apartment, butting her head against Victor’s leg as he gave her a soft pat.

Yuuri went to the kitchen area, putting on a kettle as Victor relocated to the couch. The only sounds that were made were from the clinking of silverware as Yuuri finished preparing the tea and Makkachin’s soft whines as she rested her head on Victor’s lap.

With two mugs in hand, Yuuri took the other spot on the couch, placing one mug on the nearby table. He made no move to talk, only taking a small sip from his mug.

Victor let himself take a deep breath before leaning so his head rested on Yuuri’s shoulder. Words were on the tip of his tongue but talking took up so much energy…

Licking his lips, he closed his eyes. It… it made talking easier.

“I… I thought I was better.”

There was a slight shift as Yuuri put his mug down, and then wrapped an arm around Victor’s waist. The added support gave him more strength.

“I haven’t felt this way in so long… I really thought I was cured or something.” The edges of his eyes burned, pressure pushing against them, “I shouldn’t be like this. I don’t even know why it happened, you were talking to the others, you’ve done it before, I don’t know why it’s affecting me now…”

He felt more than saw as Yuuri took a breath, “Well, that’s just how it is, sometimes. A little thing will set you off and make it seem bigger than it really is.” Yuuri’s other arm wrapped around, encasing Victor in a firm hug, “It’s… similar to my anxiety? Not to make this about me, of course, just trying to explain it better?”

A small laugh escaped Victor’s lips, “This is anxiety, then?”

The hug tightened, “There are other forms of mental illness. We could go to a doctor, see if you could get therapy or medication?” A pressure on his head alerted him that Yuuri placed his head against his, “You know, you’re never really cured? You learn to live with it. Some days are much better than others. Today? Today was a bad day, but it’s going to be okay, Victor.” He pulled away, only this time to pull Victor into a proper hug, “If it ever gets unbearable, I’m here for you.”

Victor squeezed his eyes shut, his throat tight as tears ran down his cheeks. He buried his face in Yuuri’s shoulder.

He wasn’t okay, but he could handle it. He wasn’t alone. 


End file.
